


When There's Not A Lot of Warmth Left

by ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand



Series: Arum's Depression [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday (Penumbra Podcast), Multi, Passive Suicidality, Pressure Stimming, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), mild suicidality, some self-hating language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27117172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand/pseuds/ADreamIsASoftPlaceToLand
Summary: Arum feels like he's vanishing sometimes, like he does not have the energy to be present for his humans. Damien understands better than he expects.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien (Penumbra Podcast), Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Series: Arum's Depression [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979306
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	When There's Not A Lot of Warmth Left

**Author's Note:**

> tw: depression, suicidality, dissociation (no attempts at suicide or self harm, just passive thoughts and imagery about death/dying)  
> please take care of yourselves!
> 
> so this is SORT OF a sequel to the first fic in this series, but you don't have to read that one to understand what's going on here! (however reading the first one would be deeply appreciated). Happy Lizard Kissin' Tuesday! This one is... kind of sad, but is also a bit of a love letter. it's also a bit of a mess, and there are also probably typos in this, i have somehow managed to get a migraine AGAIN on the night when i have time to write, so no editing has been done! 
> 
> title from Boreas by The Oh Hellos (as a side note, I have had this song on repeat for a month and I can't handle it. Oh Hellos what did I do to deserve these emotions???)

Arum is often tired. There are days when he struggles to pull himself from bed, even without the comforting warmth of his humans to lull him back to sleep. His humans have grown accustomed to shifting for him on these days. The stay a little closer when they can, Damien’s voice grows a little softer, Amaryllis’s smile a little more gentle. There are times when this grates on him like sandpaper, and he snaps his teeth, he does not need to be _coddled_ , he is not a twig that will snap against the smallest breeze. Some days he shuts down, retreats into himself and it is all he can do not to break, crumble like a clump of sugar at the soft warmth of his humans.

It is on these days when he feels the least like he _deserves_ the way Amaryllis and Damien soften for him. They treat him with such _impossible_ kindness, taking extra time and spending so much energy to make sure he is as comfortable as he can be, when he cannot even muster up the energy to _speak_. The more Damien and Amaryllis care for him, when he’s like this, the more the weight that sits on his chest presses down, closer, tighter. _They will tire of you, they do so much for you and you do nothing for them. You_ ** _worry_** _them. They care for you so deeply and you cannot even spare them the pain of watching you suffer under the weight of this_ ** _nothingness_**.

Because it is nothing, really. There is nothing he can point to and say, “Ah, yes, this is the thing that makes me feel this way.” There is no great injury, no insult to him that has caused his chest to hollow, his mind to numb, his body to grow heavy with exhaustion. He has no explanation. He has no excuse. There is no reason for him to feel like he is drowning, submerged at the bottom of an ocean, too tired to fight the tides back to the surface for one last glorious, gasping breath. But Arum’s lungs constrict anyway, his eyes squeeze shut, and he tries to convince himself that the breaths he shudders through his body are worth the effort.

Through the cold, numbness that Arum has settled into, there is a shock of warmth, a hand pressed to his cheek, and Damien’s voice is a beam of sunshine that briefly breaks through the depths of the water. Arum does not process what Damien has said, but he shakes his head, pulling away from the familiar comfort the poet offers him. He cannot bear the expectation he will see in the poet’s eyes, seeking some answer to whatever question he asked, a teasing, sharp smile in return to whatever wit he has tossed into the air between them. He does not know what Damien wants of him right now, but he knows it is not something he cannot give.

He hears Damien hum quietly beside him, and he shifts, lifting another hand to Arum’s other cheek. “Oh, my lily,” Damien’s voice is like honey and butter, warm and sweet and the feeling of it sticks in Arum’s throat. Soft lips press to his forehead, and he folds, lowering his head to Damien’s shoulder and _pressing_ , not hard enough to push him away, but hard enough that the feeling grounds him. It has become a signal between the three of them, since Arum first had a rather tough bout of depression after they began their relationship, for him to lower his head to them when he needs them to ground him. He presses himself to them when he feels that he is drifting away, and he needs them to pull him back to them, hold him close and talk him back into reality.

As Arum leans against Damien, he breathes, and wills every bit of feeling he can into the air between them. _I’m sorry, little knight. I’m sorry I’m not_ ** _here_. **_I am so tired, honeysuckle,_ _but I promise I’m not gone. I want to listen to you. I want to talk to you, there is so much I wish to say to you, but I am so tired and I cannot make myself_ ** _stay_. **_I want to hold you. I want you with me. I do not want you to go away, but there is nothing I can offer to make you stay, to make you want to be near me, but… Please, honeysuckle. Stay. Stay with me. I do not want to be alone anymore._

The hitch in Damien’s breath beneath him tells Arum that he managed at least _bits_ of that out loud. How much he cannot be certain, but Damien clutches him a little tighter, and he feels lips press against the top of his head. “My sweet, sweet Arum,” Damien breathes against him. “Please do not apologize. I _understand_ , my love. When my mind is troubled, I find it nearly impossible to _stop_ speaking, but that does not mean I will be upset with you when you find yourself unable to _start_.”

Arum’s breath catches, and he chokes around the lump that has formed in his throat at Damien’s words. A small noise escapes his throat, and Damien shushes him softly, “Oh, my lily, I am sorry your mind troubles you so. You are not a burden to us, and we love you even when you wish to hide and push us away. We understand when you are too tired to speak, we love you even when you need us, and can offer nothing in return. Our love is not finite, nor is it a transaction that must be tallied and paid in kind. We will love you for as long as you wish. We will give you all that we can, we will hold you and comfort you as often as we can.”

As hot tears begin to fall down his cheeks, Arum wraps his arms around the poet and holds on fiercely, but Damien merely begins to rub circles into his back, and continues in a hushed murmur, “You do not owe us your presence, Arum. You do not owe us your joy or your attention. We are not here to be entertained by you, nor do we expect you to pretend, to put on a falsified mask of content and peace to placate our worries. We wish to be here for all of it, but we understand if you wish to pull away, if you need space and time to simply _be_ , without feeling the pressure of our presence by your sides. We love every part of you, dearest lily, even the parts you believe hurtful or hateful or unworthy of care. We love them because they are _a part of you_ , and we love you. We only wish you did not have to hurt so, my heart,” Damien’s voice wobbles with emotion, and it is so much more than Arum can bear, but he does not move.

Arum lets Damien hold him, and Damien continues to murmur to him, gentle reassurances, as Arum lets the last bits of emotion and energy seep out of him. “We only wish to help you, and if that means letting you pull away, letting you leave for a little while until you are ready to come back, then we understand, my lily,” Damien whispers. “We will be here when you return, you need not fear that we will grow weary in your absence, that we will forget how we feel if you are not with us every moment. We will stay with you, even when you feel _you_ are not here with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me @shorter-than-her-tbr-pile!


End file.
